


You Don't Even Have To Ask For It

by ColetheWolf



Series: Unrated Scenes That Were Cut From The Show [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, Begging, Blow Jobs, Dubious Consent, Fingerfucking, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Swallowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 12:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColetheWolf/pseuds/ColetheWolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Stiles is forced to locate where Derek is being help captive, Peter realizes that Stiles may not be willing to accept the bite, but he's definitely willing to suck cock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Even Have To Ask For It

**Author's Note:**

> I've decided to go back and write fics as little in-between scenes from Teen Wolf episodes. This is following the plot-line of episode 1x12 "Code Breaker"

Stiles stands behind the trunk of a gray sedan with his mouth gaping open, shuffling around uneasily on his feet as Peter Hale stands to his direct left taking out what looks like computer equipment from a dingy bag. He looks around the dimly lit parking garage trying to figure out what to do exactly. He can’t run. Peter will kill him. The other choice? Engage in conversation with the sadistic psychopath alpha even though it may end Stiles’ life. Stiles soon comes to a realization that there are no other choices though. He has to talk. He has to at least say something and refrain from making it sound too snarky.

“Good luck getting a signal down here.” Stiles breaks the eerie silence resting between the two of them, but doesn’t dare look over in the direction of Peter’s typically cold and sharp gaze. That is until Peter’s arm rises up slightly, giving just enough movement in Stiles’ peripheral vision to make the timid teen look over.

Stiles looks to Peter’s hand, where a slick, black cartridge is being held in-between the dry fingers. Immediately, Stiles’ knowledge of technology kicks in and he realizes that the black cartridge is a mifi device. Something that gives instant internet connection no matter where a person is and—just how the hell does Peter know how to work wifi despite him being a werewolf potato for six or seven years?

“Oh, mifi.” Stiles’ voice cracks in surprise as Peter hands him the cartridge then pulls out a laptop. “And you’re a Mac guy…Does that go for all werewolves or just a personal preference?” He jokes. Completely disregarding the fact that Peter Hale—a.k.a alpha werewolf/psychotic murderer— is standing right next to him.

Peter fixes his leather trench coat in a rather calm manner as he shoots the irritant of a teenager a wicked glare. “Turn it on. Get connected.” Peter demands, yet again in a rather calm manner. He looks to the blank laptop screen and waits for Stiles to comply and obey to his command.

“You know, you’re really killing the whole werewolf mystique thing here…” Stiles replies but does as he’s told. It’s not wise to aggravate Peter, but sarcasm and sass come as second nature to Stiles. His remarks leave his lips before he even has time to think. Hopefully Peter won’t lash out. Hopefully Peter just gets up and leaves the parking garage to leave Beacon Hills forever.

Stiles picks up the mifi cartridge and turns it over onto its backside to read the wifi passcode needed. He goes to type but realizes there’s another key thing needed to get onto the laptop. Scott’s username and password.

“Look you still need Scott’s username and password and I’m sorry, but I don’t know them.” Stiles lies through his teeth and Peter is quick to cut in.

“You know both of them.” Peter reveals smoothly with no hesitation. Stiles just looks at him in pure fake amazement while he still tries to fool Peter into believing he does not know Scott’s information.

“No. I don’t.”

“Even if I couldn’t hear your heartbeat, I would still be able to tell that you’re lying.”

“Dude, I swear to God—” Stiles tries to defend his lie, but Peter isn’t dealing with it anymore. The alpha grabs the back of Stiles’ neck and slams his face down into the trunk of the sedan. Stiles cries out as his face and upper chest make contact with the metal. He groans and writhes around trying to ease the pain while Peter keeps a tight grip on the back of his neck.

Stiles’ breathing picks up as fear courses through his body. The alpha’s grip on his neck is doing absolutely nothing but becoming increasingly painful. Possibilities begin to flood through Stiles’ mind. The fact Peter is angry at the moment and a known murderer don’t mix well and definitely don’t sit well in Stiles’ mind. Right now Peter can easily kill him. Snap his neck in two and it would be done. No more Stiles Stilinski.

Peter leans in slightly towards Stiles’ ear and begins speaking in an eerie whisper. “I can be very persuasive, Stiles…” He pauses and Stiles groans out in pain again. “Don’t make me persuade you.”

Stiles manages out a nod with his face still pressed against the car trunk and Peter releases the grip. The still terrified teenager stands up and rubs the back of his neck while wincing in pain. He can’t even bear to look to his side because Peter is still standing there. Still standing there ready to lash out again if Stiles doesn’t behave.

After a few seconds of making sure his neck was still intact, Stiles begins typing on the laptop quietly. His rare silence breaks as he begins talking to Peter again.

“What happens after you find Derek—”

“—Don’t think, Stiles! Type.” Peter growls out and Stiles actually stops typing despite the fact he’s a hair close to getting sliced open by the alpha.

Stiles closes his eyes and swallows down his realization of what Peter is planning on doing. “You’re going to kill people aren’t you?” He asks.

Peter takes a second to reply and for that second Stiles’ heart skips a beat at the thought that he just pushed blood thirsty alpha over the edge into rage mode. He doesn’t though. Peter still stays calm.

“Only the responsible ones.” Peter explains as he looks into Stiles’ brown eyes. They’re slightly bloodshot and Peter can see how they’re becoming glossy with every blink. It looks like he’s fighting back tears.

Stiles breaks away from Peter’s cold, disconnected gaze to the laptop sitting on the car trunk in front of him but then looks back. “Look if I do this, you have to promise to leave Scott out of it.”

Peter pauses for a moment and replies. Not angrily. Not in a growl. But in an almost soothing tone. Stiles however can’t take that tone as a guarantee that he’s safe from being killed. Peter is completely unpredictable and can snap any moment.

“Do you know why wolves hunt in packs?” Peter asks and looks to Stiles but the teen rolls his eyes and looks away. “It’s because their favorite prey are too large to be brought down by one wolf alone. I need Derek, and Scott. I need both of them.” He explains.

Stiles keeps his eyes locked at the computer screen rather than Peter’s eyes. “He’s not going to help you.”

The two connect stares again as Peter retorts. “Oh he will, because it will save Allison. And you will, because it will save Scott. Your best friend. Whom you know so well, you even have his username and password.”

Stiles exhales accepting the fact he has to help Peter. He begins typing again, this time filling in Scott’s username. Peter watches looking slightly confused and asks. “He username is Allison?”

Stiles types in Scott’s password and Peter rolls his eyes and the pure stupidity he sees being typed out in front of him.

“His password is also Allison?”

“You still want his in your pack?” Stiles asks and looks to Peter who then just looks away so he goes back to typing.

Minutes pass and Stiles continues searching through coding and jumbled words as he tries to figure out the coordinates to where Derek is being held against his will. As he types he can’t help but sneak a few quick looks over at Peter who is pacing back and forth quickly at a fair distance away. Something about Peter is turning Stiles on and he can’t quite figure out what. Maybe it’s the way the dim light of the parking garage is bouncing off of Peter’s body making him seemingly glow. Or maybe it’s the way Peter’s black dress slacks are of a rather snug variety and the way Peter’s crotch is being showcased in them makes Stiles just want to drop to his knees, unzip the man’s slacks and pull out that hot, thro—

“Wait, what the hel—That’s where they’re keeping him? His own house?” Stiles interrupts and cools down his own smoldering fantasies of Peter Hale when the screen of the laptop pops up coordinates to where Derek is located.

“Not at it. Under it. I know exactly where that is.” Peter looks at the satellite aerial view picture of the location, shuts the laptop and begins packing it back up when suddenly a deafening growl pierces Peter’s supernatural werewolf hearing. He pauses to listen in then adds to his previous sentence. “And I’m not the only one.”

Peter grabs the satchel with the laptop in it and opens the door to the sedan. He places the bag in the back seat and listens in to the continuing howling from another nearby werewolf. Stiles stands idly at the trunk of the car and looks around the parking garage trying to figure out why Peter’s ears perked up. He knows there’s some sort of loud noise going on, but his human ears can’t pick up on the sounds.

“Give me your keys.” Peter orders, breaking the silence as he holds his hand out expectantly for Stiles to comply.  Stiles does. He sighs loudly, reaching his hand into the tightness of his pocket and pulls out the keys to his jeep he cherishes maybe just a tab bit too much.

He managed to pull them out and hands them over to Peter. “Careful, she grinds in second.” Stiles warns, sounding half sarcastic and half serious at the acknowledgment that Peter might really just drive off in the jeep.

Peter grabs the keys from Stiles’ hand and crushes the metal in his werewolf super strength. He gives them back, watching as Stiles’ facial expression changes to a strange mix aggravation and anger.

Peter turns to open the door on the driver’s side when Stiles opens his mouth again. “So you’re not going to kill me?” He calls out. Almost tauntingly but wishes he hadn’t said anything when Peter turns to face him. He man’s eyes look like death. They’re hallow. Cold and lifeless.

“Oh…god.” Stiles mutters out backing away from Peter who is stepping forward towards him. “God, please.” Stiles prays in his mind for a sort second. He wants to take back his sarcastic taunt. Peter was leaving. He was going to leave him completely unharmed, yet he just had to open his stupid fucking mouth.

“Don’t you understand yet?” Peter pauses and watches how truly terrified Stiles is before continuing. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

“You turn into a giant monster with red eyes and fangs, and you’re not the bad guy here?” Stiles asks.

Peter exhales quietly and squints his eyes just a little bit trying to figure out the teenager in front of him. “He knows I can kill him right now if I please. He knows that he is no match for my strength or power, yet he doesn’t stop talking to me. He doesn’t back down like he should…” Peter thinks to himself.

“I like you Stiles. Since you’ve helped me, I’m going to give you something in return. Do you want the bite?” Peter asks with not even the slightest of hitch in his voice to indicate he’s joking. He’s being serious and Stiles’ mouth gapes open at the question.

“What?”

“Do you want the bite?” Peter repeats his question even though he heard Stiles’ heartbeat rise when he first asked it. Sties heard the question just fine the first time. The boy knows damn well what it means. He’s just being difficult. Stiles just stands there though as if he’s seriously stunned, so Peter elaborates.

“If it doesn’t kill you, and it could, you’ll become like us.” Peter explains again and Stiles questions yet again as well.

“Like you?—” Stiles asks stupidly and Peter cuts in quickly to announce the fact he’s seriously losing patience with the teenager’s pointless babbling.

“—Yes. A werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?” Peter steps forward and continues speaking. “That first night in the woods I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could have easily been you. You’d be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side watching him become stronger and quicker. More popular, watching him get the girl…you’d be equals. Maybe more...”

Peter sees the gears twisting and turning in Stiles’ jumbled mind. He wants it. He wants the bite. He wants to be turned so he can be like Scott and Derek. But there’s something else there, leaking off of Stiles that Peter can smell rather than see. Lust.

Stiles does want bites, but not exactly ones that would turn him into a mythological creature. No. He wants the ones that happen tenderly during certain _activities_. He wants the ones that leave bruises after the act is done. The bruises that can be worn like a trophy. He wants love bites. Bites of passion. Bites from beautifully rough sex.

Peter reaches out and grasps Stiles’ wrist gently. He can feel the fast, galloping rhythm of blood pumping through Stiles’ wrist. Peter pulls Stiles’ arm up so that the teenager’s arm is at level with his mouth. All it takes is a simple bite. Nice and clean. Stiles would be his in the sense that he’d be a part of his pack. Peter battles with the idea of having a quick to argue, jittery, immature little teenager in his pack but decides quickly. The teen would certainly make a fine addition to his pack. Stiles could definitely prove himself to be useful in maybe more ways than one.

“Yes or no?” Peter asks, keeping his grip on Stiles. He waits for an answer. It isn’t a hard decision to make. Either Stiles wants to be powerful or he wants to stay weak. Peter zones in on Stiles’ heartbeat. It’s picking up pace with every given second. The teen’s heartbeat is enough of an answer for Peter and he extends his fangs and leans down to bite down on Stiles’ perfect skin. With no second to spare, Stiles rips his arm out of Peter’s grip out and away from the fangs.

“I don’t want to be like you.” Stiles admits. He swallows a deep breath trying to regain control over the situation. For a moment fear strikes Stiles like lightning when he sees Peter’s gaze intensify on him. But Peter doesn’t lash out with claws or fangs. Instead he just begins talking still using that eerily calm tone.

“Do you know what I heard just now?” Peter asks and pauses to see if Stiles will even bother to reply. The teen doesn’t so Peter resumes. “Your heart beating slightly faster over the words ‘I don’t want’.”

Stiles just looks around realizing he’s been caught. Peter knows he wants the bite. Stiles goes to talk but Peter just continues.

“You may believe that you’re telling me the truth, but you are lying to yourself.” Peter steps forward, placing himself closer to Stiles. Close enough to feel the warm breaths escaping Stiles’ mouth. His nostrils flair involuntarily at the scent of pure want and absolute lust dripping off of Stiles. Peter can smell it. All of it. The smell of blood pumping into Stiles’ cock is intoxicating.

“There’s something else you want. Isn’t there, Stiles?” Peter whispers and presses his thumb to Stiles’ bottom lip. He presses it in just far enough to feel the slick wetness of the teenager’s tongue on his calloused thumb.

Stiles doesn’t answer Peter’s question. He doesn’t even flinch when he feels Peter’s thumb pressing into his mouth. The strong urge to suck and lick on the alpha’s finger hits Stiles like a brick making his knees get weak at the bend. He barely manages to stand upright when the taste of sweat and dirt sting across his taste buds. He’s genuinely speechless for once in his life and the fact Peter’s finger is pressing in further does nothing to help.

“You don’t even have to ask for it. I’ll make it as simple as that.  You’re a teenager. You know exactly what you want. You know how to get it. So take it.” Peter offers and slips his thumb out of Stiles’ mouth, letting a stream of saliva follow out and over Stiles’ bottom lip.

Stiles just stares blankly into Peter’s dark eyes. Was Peter tricking him? What exactly is the catch, because there is no way a sadistic psychopath would offer something like that. Stiles flicks his tongue across his bottom lip, taking back in the saliva Peter’s thumb dragged out. Stiles nods lazily and drops to his knees so that his mouth is perfect level with the protruding tent in Peter’s trousers.

Stiles takes a moment to assess the situation he’s in. He’s not complaining. Definitely not complaining. But he’s nervous as hell. His stomach is in a knot and—is that really Peter’s fingers gently combing through his buzz-cut? It is. His heart skips a beat as Peter gently brushes through the shortness of his hair.

Not more than a finger length’s distance from Stiles’ mouth is a huge, throbbing bulge tenting the tight fabric of Peter’s pants. Stiles slides his hands up the older man’s legs until he reaches the zipper of the pants. He takes the zipper in his grip and tugs on it gently, pulling it down slowly until a big enough opening is created so that Stiles can see the flushed and naked skin of Peter’s pulsating member.

Stiles reaches inside with his nimble fingers, grabs Peter and pulls him out. Only then does Stiles’ mouth gape open even more than it was previously. Peter Hale’s dick is in his hand. In _his_ fucking hand. Pulsating. Leaking pre-cum…

 _Fuck._ Peter is huge. 8½ inches, cut. It’s beautifully flushed in a deep red shade as it looks like Peter is seconds away from shooting a nice, sticky load. Stiles tightens his grip around Peter’s length as he begins stroking it faster. Stiles looks up to catch Peter’s gaze. His eyes look like he’s about to cry, but Peter doesn’t look sad. He’s smirking. He’s looking down at the teen with like Stiles is a piece of meat.

“Can I?” Stiles asks in a whisper, continuing to stroke the alpha. Peter doesn’t even respond. Instead he steps forward causes his erection to bump against Stiles’ lips.  

Stiles tongue immediately darts out, taking in the tip of Peter’ dick. He begins swirling his tongue around the slit to take in all the beautiful pre-cum that’s just waiting to be lapped up. He moans and grunts as he slips Peter deeper into his throat. His lips stretch around the girth as he starts bobbing up and down, slow at first but becomes increasingly faster within minutes.

Slurps and quick gagging sounds ring in Peter’s ears as the horny teenager continues the wet and sloppy assault on his cock. Stiles is way too inexperienced for Peter’s taste, but after seven years of absolutely no sex, Stiles’ mouth feels like heaven.

“ _Dammit,_ Stiles…Just like that. Take it deeper.” Peter moans out, thrusting his cock deeper into Stiles’ throat earnestly. His hand remains on the back on Stiles’ neck. He’s using it as a way to keep himself from toppling over and to guide Stiles on and off his cock in a fluid bobbing motion.

Peter finishes entirely too quickly. His hips stutter as he spurts stream after stream of hot, salty liquid down the seventeen year old’s throat with a load gasp. He snorts nearly muted laughter when he hears the desperate sobs and chokes of _“Mmmhn”_ coming from Stiles as he holds his head in place making sure that his cock remains just where it is.

Stiles forcefully attempts to push away but Peter doesn’t let up and keeps his cock jammed into Stiles’ throat as he unloads. There’s no other alternative. Stiles can’t pull away. He can’t spit out the mouth of cum, so he swallows with obscenely loud gulps.

Peter stares down at Stiles as it happens. He watches with a smirk because he knows that the reason Stiles’ Adam’s apple is bobbing around so ferociously, is because of the huge load of cum he shot down his throat. Peter makes sure he is completely spent, waiting until his cock begins to go soft in Stiles’ mouth before he pulls out. He even goes as far as slapping his softening cock on the teen’s chin before putting it back into his trousers.

Stiles stands upright looking dazed yet satisfied at the whole ordeal. And even though Stiles looks satisfied with taking Peter’s load down his throat, his own cock is still leaking with anticipation of being touched. Hopefully Peter will jerk him off until he gets to enjoy an orgasm by the hands of someone else too.

Peter looks down and grabs onto Stiles’ hard on. He squeezes it and strokes at it for just a minute before releasing his grip. In a split second Peter rips Stiles’ belt off then pulls his pants and shoes down to the ground.  Stiles is lifted onto the trunk of the grey sedan and placed on his back all while trying to figure out what’s happening and that’s when Peter starts talking.

“Stroke yourself.”

Stiles eyes widen. “But, I gave you…you’re supposed to…” Stiles mumbles out. It’s only fair Peter pleasures him after Stiles was kind enough to fucking go as far as swallowing Peter’s cum. What the fuck? How’s that even fair—

“Do it. _Now_.” Peter orders.

Stiles rolls his eyes, takes in a deep breath and begins jerking himself off vigorously. Even if Peter wasn’t going to suck him off, or even jerk him off…Stiles still needed to relive himself. He strokes himself with one hand while his other hand reaches down to squeeze and caress his own balls. Stiles goes even a bit further as to skirt across his untouched hole with his index finger. He teases himself. Carefully putting not even the entire tip of his finger into his hole only to pull back out.

Peter watches as Stiles does it. Licking his lips when he sees Stiles’ finger go in and out of the hole he so desperately wants to take for himself. Peter hits Stiles’ hand out of the way and shoots two of his own fingers into Stiles’ unslicked hole to begin fucking into it as hard and fast as he can.

Stiles’ entire body jolts and convulses at the intrusion and he screams out.

“FUCK, PETER!” Stiles yells out as he speeds up to stroke himself even faster. His legs spread as wide as they can possibly be spread to allow Peter full access. He’s moaning. Screaming. Begging with senseless mumbles that fill the parking garage.

“More Peter! I need more of your fingers inside. More. _More!”_ Stiles screams out, clutching at Peter’s shoulder with his free hand.

Peter does listen to Stiles’ desperate pleas. He pushes in more of his thick fingers, leaving Stiles to writhe around on the trunk of the car with four finger shoved deep into his ass. Peter continues with the brutal fingering until Stiles is clenching down hard signaling that he’s about to cum.

“I’m gonna…I’m gonna cum…shit. Shit!” Stiles yells out and shoots his load hard, leaving it pour onto his shirt and even spurt a few good jets onto his face. He arches his back at point of orgasm and strokes his cock as hard as he can while he shoots making cum fly in all sorts of directions.

Peter slips his fingers out of Stiles’ hole and smiles down at the filthy teenager. He grabs Stiles’ by the collar of the shirt and throws him to the cement floor carelessly. Stiles lands with a loud grunt of pain but doesn’t yell or whine over it. Instead he looks over at Peter with a dirty smirk stretched across his face while he messes around with his stretched hole, displaying it to Peter.

“Goodbye, Stiles.” Peter says as he gets into the car, backs out of the parking space, and speeds out of the parking garage leaving Stiles soaked, breathless and all alone on the cold cement.


End file.
